


His Mermaid Girlfriend

by Stark_Raving_Madlad



Series: Once Upon a Blind Date [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Atlantis, F/M, Fantasy, Mermaid Sex, Nymphomania, Porn With Plot, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Science Fantasy, ancient aliens - Freeform, mermaid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Raving_Madlad/pseuds/Stark_Raving_Madlad
Summary: Jack is a human author; Deirdre is a mermaid marine biologist. Together, they're going to discover the secret of Atlantis.
Relationships: Human/Mermaid - Relationship
Series: Once Upon a Blind Date [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917178
Kudos: 8





	1. Nice Fins You Have There

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to begin by reading Part One of the story: "[Once Upon a Blind Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380057)".

Deirdre was a mermaid. She appeared to be mostly human from the waist up, but from the waist down she had a long fishtail that coiled into a loop underneath her, reminding Jack of the way mermaids and sea-serpents were depicted in old-timey drawings. She had silver-blue scales, and her fins were a slightly duller shade of bluish-gray. A dorsal fin ran all the way down the length of the back of her tail, and at the end of it was a very large caudal fin that flopped involuntarily and slapped the floor. Somehow, she was standing on her fishtail, balancing upon it just as easily as Jack stood on his own two legs.

Deirdre's human half was gorgeous: the only article of clothing she wore was a pink seashell bra, which barely restrained her impressive, melon-sized breasts. She had visible gill-slits in her neck that opened and closed once each minute or so; and thanks to her long, red hair, Jack couldn’t help but be reminded of _The Little Mermaid._

"I hope you like sashimi," said Deirdre, holding up a wooden tray with some cuts of fish, rice-bowls, soy sauce, and chopsticks. "It's sort of my specialty."

"I like it just fine," said Jack, doing his level-best to keep his voice even. "In fact, I love to eat fish out. I mean—eat out fish—I mean, go out, and eat fish—I mean—I like sushi."

Now it was Deirdre's turn to gape dumbfounded at Jack. She stared at him for a long moment, her jaw dropped, doing a truly fantastic impression of a surprised goldfish. Then, in a very timid voice, she said, "You can see my—all of me?"

"You mean, can I see that you're a—a mermaid?" said Jack. "Yeah, it's pretty hard to miss."

"Oh. Oh, wow." Deirdre looked as if she were going to faint. She moved over the dinner-table, which involved a very peculiar means of locomotion, like an odd combination of awkwardly hopping on her tail and gracefully slithering with it. The overall effect was that her huge, perky boobs jiggled in an eye-catching manner with every "step", and yet she somehow managed to keep the sashimi tray perfectly level until she was able to set it down. Then she pulled out one of the chairs and sank into it, a look of fearful anticipation on her lovely face. "This must be such a shock to you," she said. From her tone, Jack could tell that she expected him to flee—to run screaming out into the streets.

"Well… I'll admit, I didn't believe that there could be such things as mermaids until now. But…" Jack shrugged, "I like to think that I'm open minded. I read a lot of science-fiction and fantasy, and that's probably why I'm not freaking out right now." He paused. "I _should_ be freaking out right now, shouldn't I?"

Deirdre smiled weakly. "That _is_ how most guys normally react when I finally show them the real me. But I've never sprung the fact that I have—have a fishtail covered in scales and slime—on a guy during the first date."

"Well," said Jack, walking over to the dinner table and sitting down, "now you have me curious. How do you hide being a mermaid? And how did you become one?"

"Then… you're still interested in our date?" asked Deirdre. Her voice was still meek, as if she feared rejection, and there was no disguising the hint of hope in it.

Jack thought about how disastrous all his other recent dates had been, and how much nicer and more normal Deirdre seemed, even in spite of the fact that she had, in her own words, "a fishtail covered in scales and slime". Honestly, it didn’t bother him all that much—as long as she didn't turn out to be another psycho. "More than ever," he admitted.

"All right," said Deirdre. "Let's have dinner, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

And so, while Deirdre served the sashimi, Jack thought about what intrigued him the most. Finally, he decided to ask, "So, were you always a mermaid, or did you somehow get turned into one?"  
  
"Oh, I was definitely born this way," said Deirdre with a nervous laugh. "And just to be perfectly clear, that was 'born' and not 'hatched'. Caviar was emphatically _not_ involved."  
  
Jack chuckled. "Well that's good to hear."  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "It's always the first thing every guy asks about. Thought I'd nip it in the bud and save you the trouble."  
  
Jack nodded and tasted the sashimi with a bit of soy. "Wow, this is—um— _really_ good."  
  
"Glad you like it," said Deirdre with a toothy grin. "So, what else do you want to know? I'm sure you have a million questions."  
  
"For starters," said Jack. "Let's see… were both of your parents mermaids too? Or, I mean, a mermaid and a merman?"  
  
Deirdre giggled. "I know what you meant. And, yes, they were. But my grandpa on my mom's side was a human sailor. A fishing-boat captain."  
  
"Oh? Did he catch your grandma in a his fishing-net, or something like that?"  
  
"Something like that," said Deirdre coyly.  
  
After a moment, Jack asked, "So… humans and mermaids can have children together, then?"  
  
"Mm-hm," said Deirdre with a nod. She set down her chopsticks and poured herself and Jack some more green tea. "When humans and demihumans have kids, they can be born as either parent's species. Fifty-fifty chance each time."  
  
"No kidding," said Jack. "I wonder how you explain the genetics of that…"  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "Search me. As far as I know, nobody's even started trying to figure that out yet."  
  
"Of course not," said Jack. "The world doesn't know that mermaids exist. How do you—or, uh, your people, how do they manage that?"

"Well to be perfectly honest," said Deirdre, "most of us don't even try to live among humans. We're much more comfortable in the sea. And, as I'm sure you can see…" she let her voice trail off and gestured at her flipper. "This tail of mine isn't exactly built for getting around on dry land."  
  
Jack quirked an eyebrow, Spock-style. "You seemed pretty surefooted a moment ago. Er, that is—for a girl without any feet."  
  
Deirdre nodded. "It's called tail-walking. Human children who want to learn how to swim take lessons, right?" (Jack nodded.) "Same for us. It takes a _lot_ of practice to get good. And even then, we can't do it without a little bit of magic to help us out." Deirdre then surprised Jack by taking hold of her shell-bra-covered boobs and hefting them in either hand. "This," she explained, "is enchanted to strengthen my tail and improve my balance and coordination tenfold."  
  
Jack couldn't help but ogle when Deirdre drew his attention to her spectacular rack. "The seashells…. are enchanted," he said, as if still trying to process the idea.  
  
"Well it's not like I wear these things for comfort," said Deirdre. As an afterthought, she added, "Or for modesty. I would take them off and let you have an eyeful, but then I couldn't move around the house and be a proper hostess."  
  
Jack choked on a sip of tea. "I, uh, really don't mind helping out. That is, if you'd like an extra pair of legs to help you fetch things."  
  
Deirdre giggled and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. "You're sweet," she said. "Or a total perv. Either way, it doesn't matter, because—lucky for you—mermaids like being naked." In one deft move ("enchanted to improve her coordination", indeed), Deirdre whipped off her shell-bra and set it down on the table.  
  
Jack nearly had an aneurysm. Deirdre's tits were more than spectacular—they were a genuine, breathtaking wonder to behold, each easily the size of her head, and utterly gravity-defiant, with perfect little nipples and areolas that were (glory of glories) sea-green in color. "Well?" said Deirdre, holding her arms out to either side, palms up, in a pose of presentation. "Are they everything you hoped for and more?"  
  
Jack nodded dumbly.  
  
"Struck speechless. I'll take that," Deirdre laughed. "Ah, but where were we? You wanted to know how I hide my tail from the general public and keep my scaly backside from being plastered all over the news."  
  
"I did ask you that, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes you did. I'm sorry if I've distracted you—" (here, Deirdre very purposely jiggled her boobs, causing Jack's eyes to sway side-to-side and follow them) "—and derailed our dinner-conversation."  
  
"Don't mention it."  
  
Deirdre smirked. "A long, long time ago, my people discovered Atlantis. You know, the famous sunken city?"  
  
"I've heard of it," said Jack dryly.  
  
"Well it was real, and the people who lived there before it sank were super-technologically-advanced. Like, ancient-aliens-advanced. My people have spent centuries trying to reverse-engineer Atlantean tech, and one of our more successful breakthroughs is a device called a GPF, a Global Perception Filter. You know how sailors used to report seeing mermaids all the time, but nowadays that just doesn't happen anymore?"  
  
Jack nodded.  
  
"Well in the 1920s, one of our scientists figured out how to blanket the whole planet in a kind of psychic brain-wave field that disrupts human neuro-something-or-other and makes it so most people who see us don't ever notice that we're merpeople. If someone catches sight of us in the sea, they think they're seeing dolphins or manatees instead. And if you have, say, a mermaid who's trying to live her life on dry land, people perceive her as a regular human girl."  
  
"That's incredible!" said Jack. "So, your people are, like, super scientifically advanced?"  
  
"Compared to humans? More advanced in some areas; less in others," said Deirdre. "There's only so much you can do underwater—which is part of the reason that I live on land."  
  
"You're a scientist?"  
  
Deirdre nodded.  
  
"Cool," said Jack. "What's your field of study?"  
  
"I have my boobs out, and he wants to know what I study for a living," said Deirdre, propping her chin up on her hands and flashing Jack another charming grin. "You just earned yourself some major brownie-points, Mister."

Jack laughed aloud at that. "Glad to hear it." After a beat, he asked, "But really, what do you study? I'm honestly interested."

"I'm a marine biologist, naturally," said Deirdre. "Not fieldwork, I wouldn't have to live on land for that. Instead, I'm into biochemical and genetic research. Working on my second postdoc at the university."  
  
"Very impressive," said Jack sincerely.  
  
"How about you, what do you do?" asked Deirdre.  
  
"I'm a writer," said Jack.  
  
Deirdre was intrigued. "Oh? Published anything I might've read?"  
  
Jack suddenly became very self-conscious, blushing and coughing. "Oh, um—I doubt it, not unless the kinds of books you like to read are, um—"  
  
Deirdre batted her eyelashes and prompted him to continue. "Yes?"  
  
"—Um, my bestsellers are this series of urban fantasy novels."  
  
Deirdre's eyes widened. "You're _that_ Jack Doyle!? I absolutely _love_ your books!"  
  
Jack was totally embarrassed now. "I guess I just would have figured, the reality of what you are versus something some guy made up—"  
  
"Well I don't read fiction for total accuracy," Deirdre said with a laugh. "What, you think that just because I'm a real-life 'urban fantasy', I'd look down on human imagination, and—and creativity? Please, my tides aren't _that_ shallow."  
  
"Even still," said Jack. "Being a biologist is much cooler. I want to start calling you 'Dr. Flynn' now."  
  
"Please don't," said Deirdre, folding her arms and momentarily blocking Jack's view of her magnificent chest.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Deirdre watched Jack pick at his food in companionable silence for a while. Then she asked him, "What?"  
  
Jack looked up and repeated, "What?"  
  
"What's that look on your face?" asked Deirdre. "You seemed a million miles away for a little while there."  
  
"Oh," said Jack. "I guess I was just thinking… now that I've had my first little glimpse of what the world is really like, I don't think that I'll be able to write another book until I've seen more of it."  
  
"What, you mean like going out and meeting more, uh, 'hidden' people like me?" asked Deirdre.  
  
"Yeah, that. And also learning more about how magic really works. And what sorts of, uh, mythical-type beings really exist or don't. All that kind of stuff."  
  
"Oh, I see," said Deirdre very seriously. "Now that you've met me, you need a tour-guide into the world's seedy magical underbelly, is that it?"  
  
"I didn't mean—"  
  
Deirdre cut him off by laughing. "I've just decided what we're going to do after dinner. When you're done, we're going out. I know a little place that I think you may enjoy."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Because it's a safe place for demis and the humans who know about us to hang out and blow off steam."  
  
"You're right," said Jack gratefully. "I would like that."  
  
"Then it's settled," said Deirdre, and she finished off the last of her tea and sashimi.


	2. Netflix and Gill

"I had intended this evening to 'lure you into my arms' with dinner and maybe a little Netflix on the couch," said the mermaid, half seriously. "But now I think I need to take you down to Muir Oigh's."

Jack was intrigued. "What's that?"

"Oh, just this cozy little Irish Pub nearby where different species can drop their various disguises and glamour-spells and just let it all hang out."

Given that Deirdre was still sitting across the table from Jack completely topless—no, wait, check that, she had a tail below the waist, not clothes, which meant that she was in fact completely nude—he wasn't quite sure what to make of the possible double-meaning. He didn't comment on it; merely nodded and fished off his tea. It was some kind of Japanese green tea: pretty good, and it went well with the sashimi. "Do you want to head right out, or hang here for a bit?"

Deirdre glanced over at the couch. Actually, it was more of a longing gaze. And, Jack realized, she was also fiddling nervously with the chopsticks and empty teacups. For such a forward creature, she sure was being hesitant about taking this date to the next logical step. Not that Jack disagreed; in fact, he was probably even more anxious than she was about the possibility of things getting physical. It was one thing to have a recent, abysmal track-record with ordinary women; it was quite another when his date had a freaking fishtail.

Jack was a red-blooded male. He was intensely curious about how exactly _that_ was going to work; he couldn’t help it. But he was also a gentleman, and he would let Deirdre broach the subject in her own time.

"I think," said Deirdre at last, "that the more pints of Guinness you put in me out _there_ , the more I'll be inclined to get cozy when we come back _here_. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

As it turned out, Jack never had to play the role of the errand-boy. Deirdre simply told him to "say goodbye to the girls for now" before tying her seashells back on; after which, she was able to stand up from the table. Muir Oigh's pub was a fair few blocks away, but it was a lovely night for a stroll. A little chilly out, perhaps, but not so much so that Jack had even bothered to bring a jacket with him; and Deirdre quite naturally wasn't bothered by the cold at all.

As they moved down the street, Jack walking normally and Deirdre doing her inexplicable, jiggle-hoppity-floppy, slithering motion, Jack couldn't help but be amazed—yes, at the wobble of Deirdre's feminine curves, but also at the fact that he was the only one around who even seemed to notice. Jack and Deirdre drew only ordinary glances from the people they passed. But guys didn't stare after Deirdre the way one might have expected them to stare at even a fully-clothed woman as attractive as she was. Based on that, Jack was quite certain that nobody else besides him could perceive the fact that the mermaid was only barely clothed, never mind actually see her fishtail.

"I wonder why I'm immune to your people's perception filter," Jack commented offhandedly, once they were more than halfway to their destination.

"I've been wondering about that myself," said Deirdre. "It could be that you have a magical talent. Or some latent psychic ability. Any family history of ESP? Houses haunted by dead relatives? That sort of thing."

"No, nothing."

"Hm. Then you must just be unusually perceptive for a human," concludes Deirdre. "You see truth. That's a good trait for a writer _or_ a scientist to have."

"That might just be the nicest thing a girl's ever said to me on a first date."

* * *

Muir Oigh's proved to be every bit the picturesque and quaint little pub that Deirdre had promised it would be. A fine and well-maintained bar; lots of wood paneling and old-world decoration; black-and-white photos in frames, and hundred-year-old advertising posters; intimate little tables and chairs in the quiet corners of the main room; and even some easy-chairs arranged around a fireplace. The fire was lit, roaring and cheery; and a red Irish setter was curled up on the rope-rug in front of it.

There were maybe ten people in total in the pub this evening, staff and patrons included. The bartender appeared to be a normal human guy, but one of the waitresses was a mermaid like Deirdre, while the other had pointed elfin ears. Seated at the bar were two more mermaids, and seated _on_ the bar was a quartet of leprechauns singing a slow and moving rendition of "Galway Bay" in harmony. Apart from that, only one of the tables was occupied, by a human-looking woman and a goblin-like creature (seemingly male) that Jack wasn't able to identify on sight.

The leprechauns' singing halted briefly when Jack and Deirdre entered. Jack got a few stink-eyed looks, but most of the pub's occupants seemed to recognize Deirdre, and so nobody made a scene or anything. "Welcome back," said the barkeep from behind the bar. "Who's your friend?"

"Murph, meet Jack. Jack, Murph."

"Clancy Murphy," he clarified. "I'm the owner."

"Nice place," Jack commented. "I didn't think a human would own a place like this."

Murph smiled knowingly. It must have been a question he got a lot from newcomers. "Mom was mer. Dad was half-fairy. It's just how things go sometimes."

"Huh," said Jack. "Well, nice to meet ya." He started the evening off by ordering a generous round of pints and shots for himself and his date, and Deirdre pulled him over to the chairs by the fireplace.

"This," she said, petting the dog behind its ears, "is Seamus. He's a sweetheart. I'd adopt him in a heartbeat if anything ever happened to Murph." The setter opened one eye, saw that it was Deirdre petting him, and then closed it again and went back to sleep.

Next, Jack tried his hand at scritching the pooch's ears. "Who's a good doggo…" (No reaction came from Seamus.) "Wow. Deep sleeper."

"I like old dogs," says Deirdre. "They're low-key. It's relaxing."

The young couple knocked back a few pints and then, over shots of Jameson, struck up a very rousing conversation about the magical world; its demihuman, chimerical, and outright monstrous inhabitants; and even a little bit about magic, witchcraft, psychic abilities, and ancient Atlantean super-tech.

At one point, the mermaids at the bar started to sing a lovely, harmonizing rendition of "The Foggy Dew" that Deirdre couldn't help but join in with. Her voice was every bit as siren-like as Jack could have expected from a mermaid. He was enthralled. Then Murph and the leprechauns drew Jack into one of the few Irish pub songs that he knew, "The Parting Glass." And, since the drinks were also starting to run low by that time, Jack and Deirdre decided that that would be a good cue to call it quits for the evening and head home.

The goodbye was warmer than the welcome, now that Jack was a known quantity at the pub. There was laughter and even a bit of applause from the two mermaid barflies when Jack and Deirdre stumbled back out onto the sidewalk, arm-in-arm.

* * *

Deirdre leaned her head on Jack's shoulder as they strolled away from the pub together. "Hey," she said with a slight slurring of her speech, "ever gone skinny-dipping with a mermaid?"

"Never on a first date," quipped Jack.

Deirdre stopped moving and stood on the sidewalk. Jack also stopped to look at her; she was gazing at him with a questioning look on her face, as if she were trying to decide something. A car rolled slowly past them through the neighborhood, and somewhere in the distance, a cat screeched. There were some kids on the front porch of an apartment building across the street blasting loud music and taking turns dancing.

Finally, Deirdre said, "Take me home. I feel like sitting in for the rest of the night."

"All right."

A short while later, they had covered the remaining distance to Deirdre's place, and they were now standing on her front porch.

 _Is she going to invite me back in?_ wondered Jack.

 _I hope doesn't run away like all the others,_ thought Deirdre.

They just stood there, a little nervous, a little awkward, each looking at the other and then trying to look anywhere else, skittish about meeting each other's gaze.

At last, the liquid courage that was fueling Deirdre right now broke down her barriers, and she said, "Look, Jack, I'm gonna go for broke here. I like you, so don't you dare kiss me goodnight—not yet."

Jack responded by taking Deirdre's arms in his hands, pulling her close, and kissing her. ( _This is exactly what I told him **not** to do!_ thought Deirdre in annoyance and disappointment. _Go figure…_ ) But Jack paused for breath and said, "That wasn't good-night. It was… welcome home."

Deirdre searched Jack's face, looking for any sign that he was being insincere, or messing with her. She found none; and so she grabbed him and kissed him back, and they didn't part again until they were stumbling through her front door and onto her couch.

Soon enough, Jack was on his back, and Deirdre was on top of him (which was a bit rough on Jack, because her tail weighed _a lot_ ). She directed his hands to her back and to the tie-clasp that held her bra on and said, "Get these shells off me!"

"Not planning on getting up for a while?"

Deirdre grinned, shook her head (with her face still so close to Jack's that her nose brushed his, and her hair tickled his cheeks), and said, "Not on your life, mister." They resumed kissing, now with the mermaid completely naked on top of him—though she made to move to undress Jack, which gave him pause. _Maybe_ , he thought to himself haltingly, _she wasn't kidding earlier, and being naked is just a comfort thing for mermaids, and she doesn't really expect us to go any further than this tonight._

Deirdre, too, was a little hesitant, and after their kissing started to get a little heavier and she was feeling a pleasant numbness in her lips from the all-too-infrequent exercise they were receiving, she suggested that they take it a little slower and maybe watch a show. "After all, we've got all night."

Jack agreed, and so they threw on Netflix and amused themselves with a truly god-awful, low-budget _Little Mermaid_ move they found, a portrayal that eventually had Deirdre howling with laughter. "All that nonsense about a moon-eyed mermaid princess longing for a human soul is just bullshit!" she said at one point. "If a mermaid wants a pretty land-boy, it's definitely not so she can say her prayers and go to heaven!"

"So, I take it you don't live for centuries and then turn to sea-foam," said Jack with a chuckle as the movie wound down.

"Nope; we're pretty much just like humans on that count. Maybe a little bit longer-lived, but not much more than a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty years, tops."

Jack pointed at Deirdre's tail, which was now flopping from excitement and mirth, so that her fin was beating on the floor, something she had barely noticed. "And I take it you can't just get a potion from a sea-witch if you want to grow legs."

"Ooooh," said Deirdre, "I wondered if you'd bring _that_ up. Legs are a very _touchy_ subject for mermaids."

"Well, I don't want to pry, if it's something—sensitive, or offensive—"

"No, nothing like that," said Deirdre. "It's just that… human guys always seem to have that expectation, you know? 'Oh, I don't want to touch your slimy scales, can't you just get legs by drying off?' and 'Where do you hide your girly-bits?' God, I _hate_ that. It's just so… objectifying!"

"I would never—" stammered Jack. "I'm just curious about the magic stuff."

Deirdre's face softened and she touched Jack's cheek. "Yeah, I know. It's my hang-up, not yours. I just—I've had some bad relationships, okay? Suffice it to say, there do exist means for a mermaid to get legs, but they all flat-out suck. Transformation magic is super-dangerous. It hurts like a son of a bitch, it can straight-up kill you if you make the slightest little mistake, and if you turn yourself into a human, guess what happens? You start to _think_ you're a human, until you forget that you were ever mer, and then it's fucking _permanent_. I don't want that to ever happen to me, so I'm _not_ going give up my tail just for some _guy_ , no sir, not ever."

"I'd never ask you to," said Jack. "I like your tail."

Deirdre was surprised. "Oh?"

"I think it's pretty," said Jack. "It's… really sexy."

Deirdre quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well… yeah. I mean, come on. I'm a guy. Guys think mermaids are hot."

"Land-guys like the _idea_ of a mermaid. But in my experience, even the nicest ones get grossed out change their tune once the fins are within arm's reach." She lifted up her tail and waved her flukes right in front of Jack's face; he didn't flinch.

Instead, he ran a hand from her fin and onto her scales, gently, up the length of her tail, going against the scales' grain but careful not to lift any of them up. Deirdre closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. Jack said, "Have you heard me complain yet?"

"No, but…" Deirdre opened her eyes again and looked at Jack seriously. "You're not, like, _too_ into mermaids, are you? Like, is the tail some kind of fetish-thing for you?"

Jack looked down at Deirdre's tail again. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a _bit_ of a thing for mermaids. Maybe that's part of why I was so calm when I first saw you."

Deirdre looked away, not wanting to meet Jack's gaze.

Jack saw this and tried to explain, "It's like… if you've read my books, then you know that one of the series' main recurring characters is a mermaid."

"Oh, yeah," said Deirdre. "'Sirena Delamare, mermaid private detective'! How could I ever forget her? 'A real fishy femme fatale'!" she quoted with a hollow laugh.

"Yeah, well, I put her in the book because I think mermaids are cool," said Jack. "But it's the same thing I think about all the other 'mythical' types in my stories. There are elves because I like elves, gnomes because I like gnomes, and it's the same for the centaur ranch-hand and the djinni sit-com actress and the wizard I.T. nerd—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," said Deirdre. "You're not an obsessive, just a fan. I guess that's cool—so long as you don't have, like, a computer at home full of creepy CGI mermaid porn, or something." She glared. "You don't, do you?"

Jack laughed and put a hand over his chest. "Cross my heart, I don't." And it was true enough: his hard drive was by no means _full_ of porn, mermaid-related or otherwise.

"Well, all right then. I just want to be sure that it's _me_ you're interested in, and not my tail."

"Would it be so terrible if liked both?"

Deirdre smiled warmly. "I guess not. It's better than if you liked my girl-half but couldn't stand touching my fish-half." She gestured at her tail and said, "After all, this isn't just a part of me, it's who I am. When you get right down to it… I guess all I've really been looking for is a guy who's into both."

"I think I can be that guy," said Jack. "I mean, I like _all_ of you, but I'm pretty sure I'd still like who you are with or without your tail."

Deirdre's heart soared. "Okay, then… before we go any further, I suppose I'd better talk to you about sex."

Oh, here we go, thought Jack. He couldn't keep the worry off of his face when he echoed, "Sex?"

Deirdre nodded, gravely. "For mermaids, sex is… well, it’s kind of a big deal," said Deirdre. "In fact, compared to land-folk, we might be a little-bit... what you'd called 'oversexed'."

Jack let out a sigh of relief. "Whew! Is that all?"

"What, were you still expecting me to tell you that mermaids don't have vaginas?" said Deirdre in a deadpan.

"The thought had crossed my mind," said Jack. "But I'd like to think it wouldn't have made a difference to how I feel about you."

"That's sweet of you to say," said Deirdre, "but I'm serious about this. There is a _reason_ that we mermaids get called 'siren' and 'sea-nymph'. If this thing between us does work out and we start a relationship? 'Lack of sex' is going to be the exact opposite of your problems."

"What exactly do you mean?" 

"I mean, don't let the fins and scales fool you; on the inside, except for the gills, mermaids are more like dolphins than fish—and that includes the sex-drive. I need a guy with enough stamina to keep up."

"Well, that's vaguely intimidating," said Jack wryly. Then he stood up and removed his shirt—and Deirdre gasped when she saw the pecks and the six-pack he'd been hiding. For a writer, the guy was cut. "Guess you'd better put me through my paces then. Care to take a test-drive?"

Deirdre swallowed and licked her lips. "Yes, please."

Jack scooted across the couch and over to Deirdre (who was still pretty much sitting where she had been since removing her magic seashell bra; without it, her mobility on land wasn't totally gone, but it _was_ pretty limited), leaned over her, and kissed her again. She moaned into his mouth, and their tongues touched.

Then Jack stopped. Deirdre thought for a moment that he was moving down to kiss her neck, but when no sweet sensation came, she asked, "What is it?"

Jack sat back and asked, "I was just wondering, where exactly _do_ you hide your—"

"My girly bits?" asked Deirdre, batting her eyelashes. "I told you, I hate it when guys ask me that."

"Yeah, I know," said Jack. "I was going to ask, where are your gills? I just noticed, you said you have gills, but I can't tell where they are, and—"

Deirdre stared and cut him off. "That's your question? We're just about to get it on, and you want to know how I breathe underwater!?" She sounded more than a little irate.

"—I don't want to do anything that might hurt you," finished Jack.

"Oh," said Deirdre apologetically. "I—uh, sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," said Jack. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she smiled and pointed to some nearly-invisible lines on either side of her neck.

"Here," she said. "And here," she pointed at some even larger lines on her sides, just below her rib-cage. "They close up tight when I breathe air, so that they don't dry out. You won't hurt them when they're shut like this. In fact, they're actually pretty sensitive."

"Really?" said Jack suggestively.

"Mm-hm," nodded Deirdre.

And so Jack, suddenly curious about exactly how sensitive tightly-closed gill-slits could be, decided to play scientist and _experiment_. He kissed his way down Deirdre's neck and licked along the length of the closed gill-slits there. She shivered in his arms. "Ooooh… oh, I knew I liked you."

Jack paused again. He was breathing heavier already. Something about this mermaid was just so intoxicating. "I'm not normally like this on a first date."

Deirdre ran her hands down Jack's bare chest and bit her lower lip. "Maybe we just… _clicked_."

They kissed again, and Jack ran his hands from Deirdre's chest to her stomach, not quite touching her breasts yet, but in a teasing way meant to heighten her anticipation. "So, you're saying we have—chemistry."

Deirdre's hands were on the waist of Jack's slacks, trying to undo the fly. "You're about to make a scientist joke, aren't you."

"I'm just saying," said Jack, finally cupping her massive mammaries in his hands (and causing Deirdre to sigh with pleasure and make an "O" with her mouth from the sensation), "when a scientist tells you there's chemistry, you listen."

Deirdre finally managed to fumble Jack's pants open and slid them off his waist, along with his boxers, freeing Jack's ass and his already-at-attention manhood. Deirdre gave his backside a squeeze and said, "Enough with the yakking. Get those off and make mad, passionate love to me already!"

"Aye-aye, Dr. Flynn," said Jack, who gave a mock sailor's salute and then sat back on the couch. As he whipped his pants and shorts off, and then took the time to remove one sock and then the other, Deirdre sat back with her arms folded underneath her tits, watching the show appreciatively. She wasn't subtle about holding her boobs out and squeezing them together in an inviting manner that had Jack very excited indeed.

Quickly enough, they were in each other's arms again, kissing heatedly, Jack's hands deftly teasing Deirdre's nipples, Deirdre with one hand on the back of Jack's head running through his hair and the other reaching down to stroke him. Jack gasped and then buried his head in the crook of Deirdre's neck when he realized, she was already guiding him into her. Deirdre's vagina was definitely mammalian, but it was completely forward-facing and located about nine inches lower down on the front of her tail than Jack might have otherwise expected, hidden behind a slit in the scales there. For a moment, Jack had the weird sensation of entering a girl roughly where the middle of her thighs should have been, were she human; but then, the moist heat he felt within was absolutely indescribable and drove away any second thoughts or odd musings.

Apparently, that was all the foreplay Deirdre needed before getting right down to the main event. Apparently, mermaids really were always wet.

They spent a long time after that—neither Jack nor Deirdre was keeping track—rocking together, grinding, thrusting, twisting, pumping, kissing, groping, making frenzied love to each other, until they were both drenched in sweat, crying out each other's names, gasping in pleasure, and collapsing into each other's arms on the couch after climax, cuddling in the afterglow.

Jack thought too late about protection. He asked Deirdre about it; she said not to worry, there was magic involved that was known to all mermaids, and she'd had it covered.

After that, they retired to Deirdre's bedroom—the decor was both girlish and nautical, which Jack found exceedingly cute—and spent the rest of the night exploring each other, tasting each other (in every sense), and making love again and again into the small hours of the morning.


	3. Goblin Barter

Deirdre awoke feeling a pleasant soreness in the muscles deep within the front of her tail. Slowly, last night came back to her. Meeting Jack; having dinner together; carrying on that awkward conversation about her mermaid nature. That had been unexpected; she certainly hadn't meant to reveal her species to him last night. But then, after Jack hadn't just accepted her but had seemed to like her all the more (without being some kind of creep about it), the relief and joy she felt had been palpable. Finally, a decent guy—someone she trusted enough to take to one of her favorite haunts like Muir Oigh's pub, someone she was genuinely attracted to and wanted to invite into her bed.

In her bed; damn, that was where they still were, still cuddled up together in a messy tangle of sheets that smelled of his musk mingled with her tail-slime. Jack was fast asleep; in fact, he was drooling on the pillow. It was kind of cute. Deirdre shifted her tail just a bit; it wasn't quite wound around Jack's legs, but it was draped over them in such a way that he'd probably be feeling pins and needles once he woke up.

Last night, after their frantic and passionate first time on the couch downstairs, Deirdre recalled cuddling with Jack, until he picked her up and princess-carried her up to her bed. (She was under no illusions about the fact that thanks to her muscular tail, she probably weighed twice what he did, and yet he managed it just fine. Jack was _strong_ —and his day job wasn't the least bit physically demanding. The guy wrote books for a living. She had definitely not expected her studious date to be the type who worked out, and with muscles that weren't just for show at that; but the surprise had been a welcome one.) After that, Deirdre had been so impressed that she'd drawn Jack to stand at the side of the bed, while she rolled onto her belly and went down on him, favoring her human partner with such fellatio as he had never experienced from any woman before—and couldn't, from anyone but a mermaid, given her ability to go without a breath of air for minutes at a time.

The sight of this gorgeous, blue-scaled, red-haired, green-lipped and -nippled mermaid looking up at Jack with his dick in her mouth, their eyes still meeting even as she swallowed his cum, had Jack more than willing to return the favor—he was downright eager when given the chance to part her fish-scales and labial folds and taste her mermaid-pussy, to drive her wild with each lick of his tongue on her little pearl-shaped clit.

They had made love twice more that night before Jack had finally succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep.

Was Deirdre satisfied? Yes, she decided; he would do. She liked who Jack was, she respected what he did, and he could actually keep up with her in the sack. Granted, this first time was just a test-run; she'd gone easy on him. What you might call "light duty". But if he kept up whatever training regime it was that had given him his impressive physique, well, she was confident that he would eventually reach a level where he could routinely satisfy even a mermaid's nigh-bottomless sex-drive.

Jack awoke to the sublime feeling of Deirdre's lips around his cock yet again. He opened his eyes to the wondrous sight of a mermaid in the morning, leisurely going down on him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You know," said Jack, already wide-awake now, "you don't have to— _gasp_ —sell me on it. I already—oh God—already wanted a second date."

Deirdre released Jack's dick from her mouth with a moist _pop_ (though she kept a hand on it to keep up the rhythm) and grinned up at him. "Just sealing the deal."

"You are—like a dream come true," said Jack. He then proceeded to take Deirdre into his arms, pin her down onto the bed, and make love to her again—precisely as she'd intended, of course.

* * *

Sometime later, while it was still mid-morning, Jack had been sent downstairs to fetch Deirdre's magic seashells. Once she was again able to balance upon her tail, to stand up and tailwalk, they took to the kitchen together to make breakfast. To Jack's surprise, Deirdre made sashimi again for herself ( _Is that all she eats?_ he wondered), but she had other things in her fridge and pantry that Jack was able to partake of, and there was at least enough in the way of culinary equipment to whip up some pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon.

Back at Deirdre's dining-table, they chatted while they ate, sometimes holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes.

 _Oh, yes,_ thought Jack to himself at one point, as Deirdre looked out the window and poured herself a cup of tea, _this is the best date I've ever been on. Deirdre is the best girl I've ever gone out with. She might even be the one._

"I'd like to see you again soon," he blurted out a few short minutes later.

"I'd like that too," said Deirdre. "Do you want to come back around tonight? I'll be off work after six."

"Actually, why don't you meet me at that pub of yours at six?" suggested Jack. "I'll just be working on outlining a new draft today, and I can do that at a pub as easily as anywhere."

"Inspired again already?" grinned Deirdre.

"You might say that."

* * *

Jack went home, cleaned himself up, and got out his laptop to start the writing process—planning, brainstorming, and general pre-outlining.

 _I spent last night having sex with a real, live mermaid,_ the thought came to him unbidden. _I'm **dating** a mermaid._

He tried to focus, but he couldn't. He tried doing internet research on the topics he wanted to weave into his next novel, but his mind kept wandering back to mermaids. He then spent the rest of his morning surfing the web, disappearing down one internet rabbit-hole after another concerning research into mermaids. He found plenty of folklore and mythology. Plenty of kitsch and merchandise. Lots of nonsense about Disney movies and other media. A large and vibrant community of girls who liked to wear mermaid tails, and performers who did it professionally. Huge bodies of artwork (some of it quite adult in nature, hoo-boy) that ranged from paintings and drawings to altered photographs and computer-generated models; that sure was something.

There was basically nothing in the way of reliable info on real merfolk, though. Sketchy sightings _à la_ bigfoot, those stupid fake documentaries, childish "spells" and "potions" that were supposed to be able to change a person. But nothing that resembled what Jack knew to be true from his time with Deirdre. He was disappointed, but not surprised. If merfolk used the internet—did they? probably—then there may very well have been some sort of demihuman dark web that he didn't have access to. He sighed, gave up, and tried to focus on his writing again.

The thought kept coming to him, even as he tried to work. _I'm dating a mermaid!_ It was mostly an excited thought, a happy thought, but it was also colored by just a shade of fear—fear of the unknown.

Many hours later, evening arrived, and he packed up and went to Muir Oigh's pub.

It was about five o'clock when Jack got there. That meant that he'd have at least an hour to nurse a pint or two and try to get a little more work done. Only, the crowd was a little rowdier this time when he arrived. He was met with lots of hostile stares when he strolled inside—there were four mermaids, two mermen, a quartet of dryads all hanging out around a very bulky centaur, no fewer than five goblins playing poker at a round table in the back, and a woman with a serpent's tail coiled up next to Seamus at the fireplace and quietly petting the old dog. They all glared at Jack, until he greeted Murph at the bar, ordered a pint of plain, and took it to sit alone in the corner of the pub with his laptop.

_I'm dating a mermaid. I'm waiting to meet my mermaid girlfriend at a pub full of non-human people, owned by a guy who looks human, but is really half-mer and one-quarter fairy._

Once it was clear that Jack meant to keep to himself and stay out of the way, the rest of the folk in the bar pretty much ignored him. And that was how things stayed until about a quarter of six, when Jack noticed the goblin card-sharks all collectively giving him the stink-eye. Jack tried to ignore it. He tried to focus on his writing. He tried to think about Deirdre, but only now at long last was his buzzing brain finally starting to accept the idea that mermaids were a real thing; and so even that proved no distraction. He felt the goblins' stares on him, and finally he looked up and asked, "Something I can help you guys with?"

As soon as Jack showed any sign of confrontation, most of the goblins went back to their card game, but one got up from the table and padded over to the corner where Jack was sitting. He was a stunted creature, four feet tall, with gangling arms that hung low and a bow-legged stance, an earthy gray-green hue to his skin, and little piggish red eyes. The goblin's clothes were a stark contrast to the rest of his features: he wore a very nicely-tailored suit and tie, with a pink carnation set into the breast, though he wore no shoes (leaving his flat and froglike feet bare).

"Actually, Mack," said the goblin, "I was thinkin' maybe I could help you." The goblin's speech was rapid and had an old-time Chicago flavor to it. Like a gangster in a black-and-white movie.

The goblin reached into a breast pocket and drew out a little crystal phial, stoppered and tagged. A tiny amount of blood-red liquid sat within.

"I saw you with the pretty fishy-dame last night and figured, maybe, you might just be in the market for a little magic."

Jack couldn't help but glance at the potion. The goblin noticed. Jack tried to feign disinterest. " _That's_ magic?"

"Sure is," said the goblin. "This fine item here is a 100% grade-A wizards'-guild-approved genuine potion of change. Man to mer."

"What makes you think I'd want something like that?"

"Buddy!" said the goblin, sidling up close and chucking Jack on the upper arm with a gnarled fist. "Please! You're a human trying to romance a mermaid. A _mer_ — _maid_. Someday she's gonna wear your mere-mortal stamina down, and then you'll be _begging_ to have an exclusive, bona fide solution to your troubles, something just—like—this." He finished his sales pitch with a hand pointing at the potion as if it were a prize up for grabs in a game show.

Jack hesitated. "I'm given to understand that those things are permanent."

"Something to save for a real special occasion," said the goblin with a toothy, shark-like grin.

Jack thought for a bit. Well, it couldn't hurt to ask. "How much do you want for it?"

"What, money!?" the goblin sounded shocked, offended even. "Buddy-boy, you cut me to the quick! Didn't you know? Goblin-trades aren't made for scratch. We take what strikes our fancy. Like, for me, in trade for this priceless and once-in-a-lifetime potion, I'd take… mmm… that." He pointed at Jack's laptop.

"You want to trade for my computer?"

"No, not the whole whatchamahoozit. Just that bit, with the 'E' on it."

"You want the keycap for the letter E… from my laptop's keyboard?"

"Yeah, that'll just about do it! What do you say, friendo? Do we have a trade?" The goblin stuck his hand out to shake.

Jack looked down at his laptop. He owned a common model. Replacing the keycap would only cost him pennies and a few days' waiting on a part from eBay. And he could still type even without the cap; it just wouldn't be comfortable for a little while. So, he pried off the key and held it out—

"Whoa, du-u-ude," said a male voice with a distinctly Californian surfer accent. Jack looked up to see one of the mermen in the bar slithering by, heading for the restroom. He had blue-green hair, a chiseled and clean-shaven chin, a perfect tan, and muscles to rival Jack's own. He wore only one article of clothing (if it could even be called that): a single scallop-shell suspended across the middle of his chest by a harness of four narrow leather thongs. Jack supposed that this was the source of his tailwalking enchantment. "Watch out there," said the merman. "Goblin-trades can be totally _bogus_ if you don't know what kind of gnarly business you're getting yourself into!"

"Buzz off, Mack," said the goblin. "This is a private meeting."

"Actually," said Jack, "I'd like a second opinion. My friend here," he pointed at the goblin, "says that this potion can turn me into a merman. Is there any way to tell if it's genuine?"

"Well let me take a little look-see, bro," said the merman.

The goblin glared, but Jack said, "It's only fair that I get to examine the merchandise before buying, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the goblin. "Doesn't matter anyway. Stuff's legit; my personal guarantee. All trades totally reversible in the event of customer dissatisfaction, that's my motto!"

The merman, meanwhile popped open the phial and took a whiff. "Whoa-ho-ho-ho!" he said. "That's totally tubular, dude! This potion is _fishy_!"

"Fishy, as in phony?" asked Jack.

"No, bro; fishy, as in, it'll totally turn your legs into a truly radical tail!"

Jack held up the keycap. "So, would you say this is a good trade to make?" he asked.

The merman didn't pay any attention to the keycap. He just held the potion out to Jack and said, "Oh, totally. Being mer is righteous! Best thing you could ever do for yourself if you really wanna hang ten!"

"Okay," said Jack. He took the phial, passed the E-key to the goblin, and said to him, "You've got a deal."

The goblin shook Jack's hand and said, "You won't regret it, pally-boy! Pleasure doing business with you." He pocketed the keycap and returned to his card-table, looking for all the world like the cat that had swallowed the canary. And Jack slid the potion phial into his briefcase.

A few minutes later, Deirdre came into the bar.


	4. Mated to a Mermaid

"Hey, handsome," said Deirdre when she saw Jack in the pub. "Fancy meeting you here!" They reconnected over drinks that evening, Jack talking about his ideas for his next novel, and Deirdre talking about her genetic research. They each found the other fascinating still, and as the evening wore on, it became apparent that they were destined to spend this upcoming night much as they had the last.

It was Jack who suggested that they change the locale. "Wanna see my place this time?"

Deirdre was game, and so they paid their tab, and Jack led the mermaid out to his car. In true gentlemanly fashion, he opened the passenger door for her and helped her in—and as it turned out, she needed the help, because she wasn't used to cars. "I stick with tailwalking if it's close, and I ride the bus if it isn't," Deirdre explained. To sit in the passenger sea of Jack's car, she had to coil her long tail up several times, with most of the weight resting squarely in her lap.

"You can ride in the backseat of that's uncomfortable," said Jack, but she shrugged it off and said everything was fine.

They drove a ways out, and when Jack hit the highway, Deirdre got a look on her face that clearly said she wanted to ask more questions, but she restrained herself. _Sit back and enjoy the ride,_ she thought to herself. _It's not every day you do something like this._

Jack then turned toward the ocean—Deirdre knew it, she could smell the salt on the air—and she had to ask. "Do you live near the sea!?"

"It's not much," said Jack, pulling onto a little gravel off-road track. "Just a cabin in the woods, really. But it's quiet. Good for the work I do."

"You have beach-front property. On the Eastern seaboard."

"I _have_ written a few bestsellers."

When the car pulled into the driveway, Deirdre found herself looking up at a very modern split-level beach-house. "That is _not_ a cabin!"

"Maybe I exaggerated a little." Jack flashed a cheeky grin.

Jack opened the door and led Deirdre inside. She looked around. The place was sparsely but tastefully decorated—and through a huge window in the back, she could see the beach, and the Atlantic Ocean. Something twinged in her heart. How long had it been since she'd been back? Could she even consider it? What would happen if she dipped her fins in those waters even once more?

"Do you want to go swimming?" Jack asked. "I've got towels, a cooler, an umbrella—well I guess we don't need an umbrella, it's already getting dark, but—"

"What I want," said Deirdre, spinning around on her tail, "is to stay right here and have my way with you. Now strip." As she uttered that command, Deirdre removed her seashells so that she stood nude before her lover. Boyfriend? Maybe, even though it was only their second night together. The potential was definitely there, at any rate; more so than it ever had been with anyone else.

"Yes ma'am," said Jack. If that was Deirdre's wish, he'd take it as his command. Dinner could wait (but when it came, Jack decided, it would have to include carbs. He was going to need protein and _lots_ of carbs).

Jack proceeded to give Deirdre a tour of his place—which was to say, they christened every room in the house with a frenzied bout of lovemaking, in one position or another, until they wound up collapsing exhausted on a floor-mat in the room on the lower level that served as Jack's gym.

"Wow," said Deirdre, lying on her back, momentarily fulfilled. "That'll definitely tide me over for a few hours, at least."

"A few," echoed Jack with a laugh. "Never have I been so grateful that I spend so much free time in _here_."

Deirdre looked around at the simple workout room. No fancy machines, just weights, a sandbag, a variety of punching dummies, and a _mu ren zhuang_ (a kung fu training dummy). "You're a fighter?" she asked.

Jack chuckled. "Not competitive. I just do it to keep in shape. Kickboxing, Jeet Kune Do, and HEMA, mainly."

"Oh." She rolled over and ran her hands appreciatively down Jack's now very sweaty torso. "I guess that explains all this."

"What about you?" Jack asked. "Any hobbies, or do you just spend all your time in the lab?"

"Oh, I'm a dedicated career girl," said Deirdre. "I work, I read… not a lot of options for athletics though. I can't kick a ball, I can't ride a bike—" She was only half-joking. Some bitterness crept its way into her voice.

"Well you must do something to keep that sexy body of yours toned," said Jack. Then he swatted his forehead and said, "Oh, yeah, right. Swimming."

"Yeah," said Deirdre quietly. "Swimming. But I don't get out to the ocean as much as I'd like."

"Why not?"

"It's not really necessary. Tailwalking is a workout too! Plus, I like the new exercise routine that _we_ just perfected—" Deirdre swiveled her hips in suggestive fashion, and Jack laughed.

But he could also tell that Deirdre had changed the subject deliberately. That was twice now she'd deflected the idea of swimming in the ocean. Something about it had her very nervous.

Deirdre winced when Jack spoke up. Of course he would; he was perceptive like that, and he wasn't the type to let things go. "Are you… avoiding the ocean for some reason?"

She sat up on the gym-mat and tried to play it off. "Pfft, what? A mermaid, avoid the ocean? What kind of nonsense talk is that—"

"The lady doth protest too much."

Deirdre glared at Jack, lying there with his hands behind his head. Of course the bloody writer would quote Shakespeare at her. "Okay… yeah. I don't want to go swimming, and I haven't been in the sea for a while."

"Don't you miss it?"

"Of course I miss it! I'm a fucking mermaid! Do you have any idea what it's like, to be a mermaid, live on land, and never feel the seawater on my scales!? It's been—" her voice shrank. "It's been years."

"Doesn't that take some sort of toll?" Jack asked. He was both curious and concerned. "Don't mermaids need the sea?"

"I'm half fish, not all fish," said Deirdre. "I can go on breathing air for as long as I like, no magic required. As long as I bathe my tail regularly, there aren't any side-effects. And those magic seashells I left upstairs? They keep my scales from flaking off whenever I tailwalk anywhere."

"That's… not exactly what I meant," said Jack.

"You mean, don't I need the ocean for some kind of emotional or supernatural reason? I've been living on land for three years now without a problem, so clearly the answer is no."

"So, why avoid it?"

Deirdre hesitated. "I don't want to lie to you, Jack. But I also can't tell you everything, not just yet. We haven't known each other that long."

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

"I can tell you that it has to do with my research. And that I don't want to swim in the ocean, because someone cast a spell on my tail. If my fins touch the water, there are merfolk down there who will know immediately—and I don't want them to find me, not yet."

Jack sat up, alarmed. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, nothing like that," said Deirdre. "No kind of immediate danger, anyway. It has more to do with what might happen if I fail."

She fell silent, and Jack pondered. "Aren't there any more hints you can give me?"

"Maybe someday," said Deirdre. "But you're sweet to be so concerned." She kissed Jack on the cheek and then said, "Let's have dinner. Do you have any seafood around here?"

Jack thought for a moment. "Um, just some frozen halibut in the freezer, and I think I have a tray of cocktail shrimp—"

"Cold shrimp?" said Deirdre, her face brightening. "That's perfect!"

* * *

Over the course of the next few months, Jack and Deirdre's relationship developed as one might expect. Randy mermaid that she was, Deirdre's sexual fervor never abated, nor would it. Jack resigned himself to stepping up his workout regimen to keep up. They saw each other as frequently as either could manage, which depended more on Deirdre's work schedule than Jack's; he could write at any time in any place, while she had to be in her lab at some very odd hours indeed to cover both her responsibilities to the university and her more personal research initiatives, about which Jack knew very little indeed.

As Jack had predicted, repairing his laptop had been no trouble at all. What the goblin wanted with that keyboard piece, Jack did not know and could not guess. He kept the potion of change, safe and unused—and a secret from Deirdre—to be resorted to only if the day should ever come when he required it.

Summer drew to a close, and autumn wore on. The students returned to the university, and Deirdre's duties there multiplied. Jack used the extra free time to work on his new novel, which was coming along nicely, and to step up his physical training.

The evening of Halloween approached: to humans, it was a festival of candy and nonsense; but to demihumans and magic-users, it was the very solemn and most holy eve of Samhain.

* * *

During the summer, whenever Deirdre had been able get away from her lab to hang out with Jack at his beach-house, she did so. Often, they would spend hours at a time playing and lounging on the beach together. And although Deirdre would gaze longingly out at the ocean, she never went into the water—never let the sea so much as touch her fins.

Now it was autumn, though, and (for Jack at least) too cold for playing on the beach, even if they weren't going swimming. So instead, they were in his house, enjoying each other's company by way of their favorite mutual pastime. More specifically, they were on the floor of Jack's living room, screwing each other's brains out. Their relationship was well-established now, but it had yet to surpass that hormonal "honeymoon" phase. For now, each was a drug to their respective lover.

Deirdre's red hair (which had grown out down to her waist since the summer) was splayed out on the floor around her head. The mermaid was flat on her back, tits bouncing up and down with each of Jack's thrusts, as the human rode her in relative silence. His quiet grunts were drowned out by Deirdre's higher-pitched cries of pleasure, and by the rhythmic "slap—slap—slap" of the mermaid's tailfin either flopping against the floor or against Jack's backside, depending on which way her fishtail curled as she wriggled and writhed in pleasure underneath her boyfriend.

Jack came first and cried out, filled Deirdre to overflowing with his semen, and then collapsed to the floor next to her. (However the mermaid's birth-control worked, Jack didn't know; he didn't ask. He knew it involved some kind of magic, but whatever it was, it must have been effective, or else Deirdre surely would have fallen pregnant by now, given the sheer activity of their sex-life.) Deirdre, pleased but not yet satisfied, cuddled up next to her lover and kissed him while he rested, until Jack was at least recovered enough to go down on her and finish his mermaid with his mouth.

Not too long after that, they were embracing and making out in the shower, and Jack could tell that Deirdre was on the brink of just jumping his bones yet again, right then and there. _She's insatiable,_ he thought. _How will I ever survive?_

But instead, Deirdre restrained herself. Once they finally finished washing and were cuddled up in some fluffy towels, Deirdre reminded Jack, "You know what today is, right?"

"Halloween," said Jack. "I wouldn't worry about it. I never go to costume parties, and my place is too out-of-the-way to get trick-or-treaters."

"It's the festival of Samhain," said Deirdre. "To demihumans, it's the holiest night of the year, and also our new year's eve."

"Oh?" ( _Yeah,_ thought Jack, _Celtic new year. It makes sense that an Irish mermaid would care about that_.) "So, what happens then on… Sah-wen?" he tried his best at mimicking Deirdre's pronunciation.

"Well, legends say that the walls between worlds are weakest tonight. That spirits from beyond are free to roam the Earth."

"Humans say the same thing. Now I'm more inclined to actually believe it."

They were back in Jack's bedroom now, where Jack quickly dressed. Deirdre threw a comfy woolen sweater on over her seashells.

"Well demihumans like to celebrate it. No big religious ceremonies or rituals or anything like that. We just like to acknowledge that the new year means new life, and for a mermaid who's—" Deirdre paused, blushing (her cheeks took on a lovely sea-green tint when she did that).

Jack was curious. "Yes?"

"I was going to say, a mermaid who's mated is supposed to be with her mate. In the sea."

"Oh?"

"Specifically, I should be in the water, and you should be inside _me_."

"Now that's a new year's eve tradition I can get behind. Sounds better than Dick Clark, the ball drop, and a kiss, at any rate." Jack smirked and asked, "Mates, is that what we are?"

Deirdre blushed again. "Well, maybe. I know it works differently for humans. You have all these… gradations of courtship. Dating, boyfriend and girlfriend, lovers, engaged, married—it's actually kind of confusing."

"Well where do 'mates' fall on that scale for merfolk?"

"We have sex," said Deirdre, as if that explained everything. "There's no deeper connection for my species."

"You don't get married?"

Deirdre shook her head. "We don't formalize relationships like that, not in my culture. Two people are either mates or they aren't, maybe with a courting stage in-between to see if they're suitable. We… are way past suitable."

Jack grinned at that. "Yes, we are. So… let me see if I have this straight. As far as your culture is concerned, we're basically already married? Like, you think of me as your husband?"

Deirdre actually had to think about it for a moment, if only to mentally translate the terms Jack was using. "I guess so? Like I said, we don't have that custom, so I can't be totally sure I know what you mean."

Jack didn't say anything. He just had this goofy, happy smile on his face that spoke volumes to Deirdre.

He was happy.

That was enough for her.

* * *

Jack had been wrong. After the sun had set, no fewer than four groups of trick-or-treaters had shown up at his front porch to ring the bell and beg for candy. Jack had thankfully kept some candy on hand just in case, but the interruptions had been wholly unexpected.

Deirdre was standing at the beach-house's big rear window, looking out over the dark ocean. She pretty much stayed there all evening, thinking. Jack would come and sit by the window with her, bringing drinks or food, and they would just be together in companionable silence. Until the bell would ring again, and there would be a ghost and a witch and two Marvel super-heroes wanting more candy.

When group number four arrived (a fairy princess, Iron Man, and Jack Sparrow), the little girl in the fairy-dress spotted Deirdre by the window and exclaimed, "What a pretty mermaid!" Deirdre whipped around in surprise, and then smiled warmly when she saw the children. She waved to the little girl and playfully flipped her fins, and the little girl's eyes lit up in delight as she waved back. Jack quickly dispensed the candy and closed the door after the kids; then he went over to Deirdre and asked, "What was that? How could she see you?"

"Children are more open-minded than grownups," said Deirdre. "And I _did_ tell you that the walls between worlds are weaker this eve. I guess that must apply to a psychic perception-filter too."

"I guess," murmured Jack. He looked out the window again—it was now pitch-black outside, and he couldn't see the ocean beyond the beach, even though the waves could still be heard. "Are you gonna do it?"

Deirdre shook her head. "I can't. I'm still not ready."

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on?"

Deirdre nodded. "Of course I will! You're my mate! I promise, I'll explain everything soon."

Jack wanted to know when 'soon' was, but he dropped it.

At 11:40 PM, Deirdre was in Jack's bedroom, totally undressed (including her seashells) and lying on Jack's bed. Even if she couldn't be in the water, she would at least fulfill the other half of the Samhain celebration by making love to her mate at midnight. But her thoughts and preparations were interrupted by the ring of her cell phone, across the room where her coat and sweater were heaped on a chair. Without her seashells on, Deirdre would have a difficult time just standing upright on her tail, never mind walking across the room. She groaned, crawled to the edge of the bed, and let herself fall to the floor with a THUMP.

"Deirdre? You okay?" Jack came into the bedroom from the hall.

Deirdre dragged herself by her arms over to the chair, found her phone, and answered it. "What are you—? At this time of night? You—uh-huh. Uh-huh.… And—it did? Are you sure?" Deirdre's voice reached a note of excitement that Jack didn't hear often. She exchanged a few more terse, heated words with whoever-it-was on the other line, and then she hung up and looked at Jack with her eyes shining. "That was one of my grad students," said Deirdre. "He was pulling some late-night hours at the lab, and—and—do you think I could get a ride?"

"You need me to drive you to your lab?"

"We're too far to walk, and the buses don't run this late."

"Sure, I'll take you," said Jack, who grabbed his jacket and his keys. "I haven't seen much of where you work yet. I'm curious."

Deirdre waited, sitting on the floor, while Jack retrieved her magic seashells. "This doesn't have to do with my work for the university, though," she said, and Jack froze in his tracks, shell-bra in hand. "This is my private research. If you're curious about what it is."

"You're finally gonna tell me what's up with… everything? What you do, why you live on land, and all of that?"

Deirdre nodded.

"Is this going to… affect _us_ at all?"

Deirdre shrugged. "I don't know."

Jack's blood ran cold. "That wasn't a definite 'no'."

"No, it wasn't."

It was with heartbreaking trepidation that Jack helped Deirdre back into her seashells, up onto her tail, and out to where his car was parked.


	5. Genetic Research on Mermaids? Sounds Fishy.

Jack drove Deirdre across town, to the university where she worked and had her research lab. The campus was eerie at this hour, with nobody up and about around the faculty and research halls, although they did see a security guard who recognized Deirdre and waved. Deirdre was able to swipe a key-card to get into the research facility building, and she led Jack through dark halls until at last they arrived at her lab.

Two grad students, young men in their early twenties, were working on some kind of cell culture when Deirdre and Jack arrived. One of them looked up, surprised. "Dr. Flynn! Wow, you got here fast—"

"Well I've been waiting on that analysis for longer than you think!" said Deirdre. "Now I need you and Reese to clear out and give me the lab. I'm going to need the space." The other student looked up from his work and was about to protest, but Deirdre held up a hand and stopped him. "And no backtalk. You kids don't need to be here this late as it is."

They both mumbled a half-hearted, "Yes, Dr. Flynn," cleaned up their work-station, and headed for the door. As they left, the first research assistant asked, "Who's this guy?"

Deirdre folded her arms. "My boyfriend."

As the two grad students scurried out the door, Jack distinctly heard one of them say, "Lucky son of a bitch!"

Jack couldn't disagree.

Deirdre, meanwhile, put a lab coat on and went over to a computer terminal hooked up to a very impressive-looking mainframe. "I've had a complete genetic analysis running in the background on the whole university network, 24/7, for about eight months now," she explained. "I had an alarm set up to text me the instant it was done, but network latency meant that I didn't get the text until we were already halfway here. I also gave standing orders to all my grad-students to call me if they ever saw the lights on this mainframe go all green. It means my algorithms finally all finished."

"So, what have you been analyzing?"

"Well, to explain that, first I have to ask, what do you know about demihuman genetics?"

"Basically nothing, except what I've heard you mention," said Jack. He thought for a moment and then said, "I do remember something funny you said when we first met. About how if a human and a demihuman have a kid, there's always an even fifty-fifty chance the kid is born one parent's species or the other?"

Deirdre nodded. "Mm-hm. That's also true if two different species of demihuman try to cross-breed. We don’t know why, but we always breed true and never hybridize. So, if, say, a centaur and a merperson had a kid, the kid would be born as either centaur or mer, not some kind of half-breed. I mean, there _are_ fish-tailed centaurs out there—tritons, they're called—but they're a third, completely separate species of their own, so maybe that's a bad example. But if, like, a faun and an arachne, or an elf and an orc—"

"I get it," said Jack. "No such thing as a half-this, half-that. Every demihuman always belongs to one parent's species or the other."

Deirdre nodded. "Right. Like Murph in the pub—he likes to say that he's half-mer and his dad was half-fairy, but the plan fact is, he's human, and so was his dad. If he ever has kids with a human, there is absolutely a zero-percent chance that they'll inherit any merfolk or fairy traits."

"So… let me guess," said Jack, "you're working on figuring out exactly how all that works? Because, I may not be a geneticist or anything close to that, but I do remember chromosomes and Mendel and Punnett squares, and I know that is _not_ how genes work."

"And you'd be right," said Deirdre, who by now had booted up the terminal and was peering over the results of the analysis. "That's because demihuman traits aren't fully genetic. They're magic. Being a demihuman is sort of like inheriting a hereditary enchantment—or curse—from one of your parents. It does alter the DNA, but not drastically. Every demihuman in the world is still _Homo sapiens_ on the genetic level. Maybe with a few extra, unique DNA markers thanks to population isolation and genetic drift. But we've never been fully cut off. Merfolk have been interbreeding with humans for tens of thousands of years—"

"And that keeps us the same species genetically, even if we're different on the outside because of some funky magic," concluded Jack.

"Right again," said Deirdre. "And to this day, nobody knows where the first demihumans came from. Ancient super-civilization? God-like aliens? Insane wizard? We'll probably never know."

"Your people haven't dug up any clues from Atlantis yet?"

Deirdre smirked. "Not yet, but I'm sure there are more than a few intrepid mer-archaeologists working on that as we speak."

After a pause, Jack said, "I'd like to see it for myself someday."

Deirdre didn't look up from the computer. "Atlantis?"

"Mm-hm."

"We'll go then. Someday, when I can go back."

Awkward silence fell over the both of them. Deirdre continued looking over the results, until at last, she flicked her tail against the floor in annoyance and swiveled her chair around to face Jack. "Damn it! All that time, wasted, and there's nothing!"

"You didn't find what you were looking for."

Deirdre shook her head. She looked about ready to cry. Jack rushed over to embrace her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder and sobbed. "I guess I should explain."

"Take your time."

Deirdre took a couple of minutes to compose herself. Then she looked Jack in the eye and said, "The reason I'm here—the reason I'm doing this research—is because the merpeople are having a crisis down in the sea, one that we haven't been able to figure out with any of our own magic or technology. A birth crisis."

"Birth?"

"There hasn't been a merbaby born in nearly five years."

Jack took a minute to let that sink in. "That's… that's insane. That kind of a flatline in your people's birth rate could damage your population so bad, it would take more than a generation to recover."

Deirdre nodded. "So you see, it's kind of an emergency that I get this right and figure out what's going on."

"Yeah, I can imagine," said Jack. He asked, "Are you saying that merfolk just can't have kids anymore? Don't tell me that's been your 'birth control' method all this time—"

"No, nothing like that!" said Deirdre. "We can have kids! We just can't have _mer_ -kids. Any children we have, they're born human, and they either have to be left on land and raised among humans, or the parents have to risk a transformation spell. Which is not likely end well. Not by a longshot."

"They can die?"

"For a permanent shapeshift spell cast upon newborn infant, even by a fully-trained guild-wizard, the risk of fatality is nearly 60%."

Jack covered his mouth with both hands. "Oh my God."

"Needless to say, most parents aren't willing to take that chance. So, until I—and all the other scientists sent to the surface-world to study and do research—can figure out what's going on here, and how to fix it, there are no more merchildren. It's a _lot_ of pressure—and until this crisis is over, I _cannot_ return to the sea and face my friends and family. I just can't."

"That's why you won't go into the ocean?"

Deirdre nodded, once again holding back tears.

After a few more minutes spent quietly embracing each other, with Jack trying to let all his love and support flow into Deirdre, he asked, "So what was up with the analysis? What were you expecting to find, that you didn't?"

"That's complicated," said Deirdre. "Long story short, I was comparing merfolk DNA samples collected over the past ten years, looking for any sign that something had changed five years ago when this started. Some sign of degradation, or disease, or maybe the effects of a chemical or pollutant—but there's nothing. Which probably means that whatever's going on, it's entirely magical."

Jack suddenly had a horrible thought. "What if the spell or whatever it is that created the merfolk race in the first place is just—wearing off? Can that happen?"

Deirdre looked horrified. "I—I don't know! But… it's possible. Merfolk are some of the oldest demihumans in the world. Most non-human races are thousands of years old, but we've been around for tens of thousands. If an enchantment like that can just—end, suddenly and without warning, we'd be the species that it would happen to first!"

"Damn," said Jack. "So, what's the next step, then?"

"Well I haven't proven conclusively that the effect isn't genetic, but… it's not looking good for that theory. Which means we need to examine magical auras instead of DNA profiles."

"So you need some kind of wizard—"

"A diviner who reads auras," said Deirdre, "and lots of merfolk volunteers. Which, I guess, means that I'm heading back to Atlantis after all."

* * *

Deirdre took a couple of days to get her affairs in order with the university. She couldn't simply disappear: she had to get a sudden leave of absence approved. Jack had no such obligations, beyond letting his editor know that he'd likely be incommunicado for a while.

Then, one day, Deirdre showed up on Jack's front doorstep wearing only her seashells and carrying a single small suitcase. "Packing light?" Jack quipped.

"Not a lot of need for clothes where we're going," said Deirdre flippantly.

"Nice try, but I'm at least wearing swim-trunks," said Jack. "Unless you plan on turning me into a merman."

Deirdre made a point of leering at Jack, running her eyes up and down his body. "You _would_ be sexy as fuck with a tail," she said, "but there's an easier way, and a lot less risky."

Jack briefly considered telling Deirdre about his potion, but he decided against it for the time being. After all, this was supposed to be a short little trip—just a jaunt, a vacation. Part of Jack's motivation in wanting to see Atlantis was curiosity, of course, and a desire to be by Deirdre's side. But he also wanted to see how the merfolk lived—and whether he might like living among them. After all, if it came to pass someday that Deirdre wanted or was obliged to return to be among her people, Jack would have to go and live among them too. If that ever came to pass, then he'd definitely choose to use the potion and become one of them, no question. But in the meanwhile, it might be nice to see exactly what that would entail.

Deirdre spent the next couple of hours helping Jack to pack. Jack had already come up with a waterproof bag which he'd filled with swimsuits, plus a pair of diving flippers (just in case whatever magic or technology Deirdre had in mind wouldn't enhance his swimming abilities). Beyond that, Jack didn't have much in the way of waterproof gear to bring along—nothing he could use to write with, for example—so he'd be roughing it until he got his hands on whatever technology the merfolk used for writing.

At about midday, they had some lunch and then went down to the beach. "Now what?" asked Jack.

"Now—I touch the water," said Deirdre. "That will set off the spell. Someone will know that I'm trying to contact home, and they'll send a vehicle for us."

"A vehicle?"

"You'll see." Deirdre slithered across the sand down to the very edge of the water, where the waves were lapping up on shore and receding rhythmically. Deirdre hesitated for only a moment; then she slid into the water and slapped her fins on the surface, plunging her tail into a wave. There was a brief flash of golden light surrounding Deirdre's tail, which faded and then dissipated into a shower of sparkles. "There," she said, "it's done."

"How long do we have to wait?"

"A while," said Deirdre. She sat down in the shallows and let the waves wash over her scales. It was the first time her tail had been bathed in real ocean-water (as opposed to bathtub water seasoned with a full can of table-salt) in far, far too long—and it felt glorious. She turned, faced Jack, and beckoned him seductively. "Make love to me in the water," she said.

Jack wasted no time jogging out into the shallows, where he could take Deirdre into his arms. This was something that both he and Deirdre had fantasized about for some time now: finally getting it on in the sea together. Jack embraced his mermaid, kissed her passionately, and ran his hands down her slick, scaly tail.

They never had the chance to be bored while waiting for the merfolk envoy to arrive.


	6. Chapter 6

The seawater's effect on Deirdre was more that revitalizing, it was a positive nitro-boost to her already nymphomaniacal sex drive. A succubus has nothing on a siren in the sea, as Jack discovered (approximately half-a-dozen times in a row) while waiting with Deirdre on the beach. In the state she was in, Jack discovered to his amazement that he could get Deirdre off in any number of ways—coitus and cunnilingus of course, but also playing with her boobs was sufficient after a while, and even the gills on her neck and sides and the lateral lines that ran down either side of her fishtail were so sensitive that kissing and teasing those brought her to orgasm number four.

Jack was downright exhausted and barely able to think, when he was saved by the appearance of the nautilus: an aptly named vehicle, not for any reference to Jules Verne novels, but because it really was shaped like a huge nautilus shell, albeit with forward-facing headlights and a viewport, two rows of portholes each running down the port and starboard sides of the craft, and some sort of glowing pink crystal embedded in the tail-end that served as propulsion.

The vehicle rose up out of the water some distance out, not coming anywhere near the sandbars or shallows where Jack and Deirdre had been cavorting for much of the last few hours. As soon as it did, Deirdre spotted it, pointed, and told Jack to hang on tight—she would swim them both out. Jack was getting a little nervous now, but he did as Deirdre asked and held her from behind while she used her powerful fishtail to propel them both out to the nautilus.

A hatchway opened up near the top of the craft, just above the bridge, and the green-haired head of a cute mermaid popped out. "Deirdre? You called for a ride?" The mermaid's head was shortly followed by two bare, green-nippled breasts that casually came to rest on the edge of the hatchway.

Deirdre motioned for Jack to go ahead of her and climb up onto the ship. "Maeve! It's so good to see you—it's been too long!"

"Yeah it has," said the other mermaid, eyeing Jack. "Who's this?"

"This is Jack Doyle. He's… well, he's my mate. He'll be coming with us."

"Nice to meet you," said Jack, offering his hand to shake. (He tried not to stare at the mermaid's chest. Even after all the time he spent with Deirdre, there was something inescapably prurient about seeing a topless mermaid that zapped his male brain with lustful thoughts.)

"Air-breather, hm?" said Maeve. "Wait a sec." She didn't shake his hand; she merely ducked back down into the ship, and she didn't close the hatchway behind her. Through the opening, Jack could see that the ship was flooded up to the level of the ocean-surface with sea-water. Presumably, once the vehicle dove underwater again, it would flood completely.

"I think she's going to get you a breath-charm," said Deirdre. "Every one of our nautilus ships is equipped with a few, just in case we need to rescue an air-breather, or take one along for the ride."

"Is that some sort of magic item that'll help me breathe underwater?"

Deirdre nodded, and half a moment later, Maeve appeared again with a necklace in hand: a blood-red stone, about the size and shape of a grape, set on a gold chain. "Here you go," she said, passing the necklace to Jack. "Make sure you never take this off while we're down below, or you'll be crushed so fast you won't have time to drown."

Jack hadn’t known quite what to expect, but he was grateful. He thanked Maeve for the necklace and put it on. (The moment he did so, the stone began to glow softly.) Then he helped Deirdre to clamber up onto the strange U-boat, holding her hands, while she flicked her fins until her fishy butt was sitting next to Jack's. After that, between Maeve and Jack, they were able to help Deirdre climb over the side of the hatchway and spill herself into the water waiting below. Then Jack followed, and he plunged into the cold seawater inside—

And he could breathe. He could see, despite the low light. He felt the effects of neither cold nor pressure. And he could even hear and speak normally.

Maeve finished closing up the hatch and then embraced Deirdre, and soon the two mermaids were chatting like old friends. Deirdre was asking after—friends? family members?—and Maeve had more than a few questions about Jack and about life on land "among the dry-born".

Jack looked around and saw that he was indeed on the bridge of craft: below the front viewport, there was a very complicated-looking dashboard, all glowing crystals and sci-fi-looking widgets, along with shell-shaped seats for a pilot and a co-pilot; and behind those, two more seats for passengers. A passageway led from the bridge back to the rear of the craft, where several cabins, holds, and presumably a galley and other chambers were located.

Jack's gaze was drawn to the co-pilot's seat, which was occupied by a merman whose look was very different from those that Jack had seen in Muir Oigh's pub back on land. This merman had silver-green tail-scales, ebony skin, and short-cropped hair that was a bright shade of aqua-blue. Just as Maeve wore no seashell bra, this merman wore no harness across his bare chest. He said nothing, but he watched Jack with equal curiosity while the mermaids chatted and caught up.

At last, Deirdre turned to Jack and said, "Jack, I want you meet Maeve, my sister. And sitting over there in the co-pilot's chair is her friend, Oisin."

"Closer than friends, I should think," said Maeve. "We're mates these days. You're not the only one who went and found herself a man, sister."

"Congratulations to you both!" said Deirdre. At Oisin, she asked, "How long did it take her to finally work up the courage to make a move?"

"Too long," chuckled the merman, "considering all the signals I'm sure I was sending. But she finally got it into her mind to 'seduce' me—on the trip here."

Jack laughed aloud at that, and Deirdre giggled, while Maeve blushed until her cheeks were a coppery green. Jack decided to be polite and turn the conversation in another direction, so he asked, "Do you pilot ships like this for a living, or is it just, like, your own—what was it called again, a nautilus?"

"It's the family ship," said Maeve. "Properly speaking, our mother owns it. 'Sin and I just got keelhauled into doing the driving."

"She says that," said Oisin, who looked over his shoulder at Jack while still expertly fiddling with a few controls, "but the truth is, Maeve was very excited to see her sister after so many years. As am I; it has been too long, Doctor."

"Don't be so formal," Deirdre laughed.

Oisin answered with a shit-eating grin. Jack was beginning to like this guy.

"All right, all right," said Maeve, who floated over to the pilot's seat and allowed her tail to drift down into it. "We'll catch up properly once we're back out in open waters and can set the autopilot again. In the meantime, you two go get settled. Your cabin is the furthest back, starboard side. And don't worry—this old girl has very thick walls."

That was all the incentive Deirdre needed to strip off her seashells, stow them in her small case, and take Jack by the hand.

* * *

The Flynn family nautilus-craft sped its way out and down to the depths of the Atlantic Ocean by way of ancient Atlantean impulse-crystal power. On board were three merfolk and one man: the pilot, Maeve; her mate and co-pilot, Oisin; Maeve's sister and our mermaid heroine, Deirdre; and Deirdre's mate, our human hero, Jack Doyle.

The craft was essentially designed to match the interior pressure of the sea-water with the exterior; as it descended, the pressure grew and the temperature fell. The merpeople didn't mind this at all: they were well-adapted to conditions at depth. For Jack, only the magic necklace he now wore—the glowing blood-red stone on its golden chain—kept him alive and comfortable.

In their cabin, Jack's things—including the swim trunks he'd been wearing mere moments ago—were haphazardly discarded and floating near the middle of the small chamber. Jack was pinned to the ceiling by Deirdre, who was both kissing him madly and thrusting the middle of her tail up onto his groin. Apparently, the chance to make love in the 3D-environment of the ocean had the mermaid beyond horny. She was positively mad with lust, frenzied like a shark that had smelled blood in the water.

Jack abandoned all hope that the journey would be a relaxing one.

* * *

Some hours later, the craft approached Atlantis itself. It wasn't the first time that Jack and Deirdre had emerged from the cabin. They'd taken breaks to visit the galley and grab some food (Jack was more intrigued by the sweet-tasting undersea fruit than by the strips of fish-flesh and the rather bland seaweed-based side-dishes). And on more than one occasion they caught Maeve and Oisin doing pretty much the same thing, creeping out of their own cabin for a little respite from other activities.

(The first time that had happened, Jack hadn't bothered to dress himself. When he considered the fact that all the other merfolk on the ship were always naked anyway, it didn't seem to matter. As it happened, though, this drew stares of curiosity and fascination and—to Jack's great surprise—admiration from both Maeve _and_ Oisin. The sight prompted Maeve to exclaim, "Ooooh, so that's why you're with a human!", and Oisin to mumble a flustered "Congratulations," to both Jack and Deirdre. When they got back to their cabin, Jack didn't even have to ask; his questioning look was enough to make Deirdre shake with laughter and explain, "Yup, you're bigger than most mermen all right. Humans are hung like tritons!" …After which, Jack made a point of always wearing his trunks.)

But now, everyone was gathered on the bridge and peering through the front viewport. Jack had no real idea how far down they were, except "deep—really deep—like, really-really bottom-of-the-sea, off-the-continental-shelf, floor of the Atlantic Ocean deep down"—and there was light coming in through the windows. Light that did not originate from the nautilus craft itself. Jack was well aware that it should have been pitch-dark down here, if Jacques Cousteau specials were anything to go by. But instead (and maybe it was the magic of the necklace), he could see, albeit through a haze of water that made things ripple and shift slightly in the distance.

But there was no mistaking the city: as the craft neared its destination, both Jack and Deirdre leaned forward to get a better view: there were crystal spires (with windows running up and down them, like high-rise buildings; the light was mostly coming from within these); bubble-shaped domes; sweeping formations of what looked like rock, carved smooth and into abstract shapes that reminded one of seashells; and one whole side of the city that was dominated by a huge rocky outcrop that jutted up from the seabed like some volcanic protrusion, peppered over with caves, from which even more lights emanated. Near the foot of the rock-wall, the merfolk had built no glowing spires or domes here; instead, this part of the city was still a great ruin, with fallen marble columns constructed long ago by human (or humanlike) hands, and causeways leading up to a great step-pyramid that still stood, defiant against the cataclysm that had once sunk this mighty and advanced nation.

"Would you look at that," said Jack, gazing at the pyramid. "Just laying eyes on that thing has me Indiana jonesing for some hands-on archaeology. Please tell me we'll get the chance to check it out!"

"Maybe," said Deirdre. "But unless things have changed since the last time I was home, we'll need special permission to visit the ruins."

"It can be dangerous," said Maeve (whilst she expertly handled the ship's control-yoke). "The Salvager's Guild is trained to deal with the ancient tech and old magic that they find there. And they say that the ruins aren't even halfway explored yet."

"Oh, you'll just encourage him saying that," said Deirdre. She turned to Jack, kissed his cheek, and said, "We'll sightsee later if there's time. But first, we've got a job to do."

"Right," said Jack with a resolute nod. "Priorities." But in his mind, he was resolved: one way or another, he'd get an up-close look at those ruins. After all, the chance to see the real Atlantis in person was a fantasy writer's dream come true!

* * *

Gerald Flynn was a well-to-do merman of Atlantis whose means were not inconsiderable. In the auld country, which in his case had been the Irish Sea, his family's trade had been a simple craft, the construction of waterproof casks. Once the famed sunken city of the ancients had been discovered by the merfolk, though, and then reoccupied as a city-under-the-sea in its own right—this happened sometime all the way back in the 1780s—many merfolk took up new occupations when they immigrated. It was hardly a new story even then, or a unique one. The ancestors of Gerald Flynn took up other businesses and did well enough for themselves that Gerald himself was now something of a force to be reckoned with in the world of undersea finances and stocks.

Gerald's mate of many years (for of course, even though the merfolk had no formal marriage traditions, they did still regularly practice long-term monogamous pair-bonding of a very similar sort), Clara Flynn, was a known gossip and busybody. She had been held as exceptionally vain, even for a mermaid, in her younger days; and now that she was deep into middle age, her chief concern in life was getting her own way wherever matters involving her family were concerned.

When the family nautilus drifted to a bobbing halt in the garage/hangar appended to the side of their larger-than-average home, Gerald and Clara Flynn were ecstatic. Their daughter, gone these five years off on an important mission up to the surface world, honored as one of the scientists tasked with saving their race, was finally coming home for a visit! As soon as they had heard that, Deirdre's mother Clara had gotten right to work. It was time to arrange a surprise for their daughter—the best gift they could think to give her.

* * *

Maeve let go of the control-yoke and faced Deirdre. "Sis… there's something I need to tell you before we go in there."

Deirdre didn't like her big sister's worried tone. "What is it?"

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this," said Maeve. "And I would have brought it up right away, if Jack hadn't been here—"

"Me?" asked Jack. "Is… is my being here going to be some kind of problem?"

"No, of course not!" said Deirdre. Then she turned to her sister for confirmation. "It won't, right?"

"Well, you see, the thing is," started Maeve, "I mean, that is to say, Mother and Father thought it would be a good idea—I mean, good for you—"

"Oh, for Lir’s sake, just spit it out!" said Oisin. "Deirdre, your parents sent for Cullen Kavanagh to come visit today. He's probably already inside the house right now, waiting to meet you."

"Cullen Kavanagh, who's that?" asked Jack.

Deirdre racked her brains, trying to remember. "Um… some socialite, I think? No, wait—he's a politician's son. The son of…" Deirdre's eyes went wide. "…the king! He's the fucking Prince of Atlantis!"

"Okay," said Jack, still confused, "so your parents want you to meet this prince? That sounds kinda cool—"

Deirdre replied, "Except, Mother wouldn't dare unless she…" Deirdre's cheeks turned aqua-green with rage. "Ooh, she wouldn't dare, not unless she were trying to set us up—as arranged mates!"

Jack's eyes practically bugged out of their sockets. "Can she… do that? I mean, is that how your, uh, customs and traditions work?"

"Only for the super-rich (like the Prince) and social climbers (like our parents)," said Maeve. "But, yes, our Mother has every right to insist that Deirdre meets Prince Cullen. Beyond that, it's up to them. And I wouldn't worry—after all, we've all seen you without those covering-cloths you wrap around yourself."

Jack blushed and said nothing.

Deirdre, meanwhile, took Jack's hand into hers and said, "She's right. I've already chosen you, because I love you. I won't take another mate, not on your life."

"Are merpeople allowed to have more than one?" asked Jack quietly.

"It's not common, but yes, absolutely!" said Oisin helpfully.

"You're not helping," hissed Maeve.

"I'm just explaining our customs and traditions to the foreigner!" said Oisin to his mate. "He deserves to know these things. At the very least, it will explain why other mermaids—"

"Quiet!" said Maeve and Deirdre together, shutting him up.

Jack remained silent. _What in the world was that all about?_

"Well," said Deirdre at last, rising up from her seat on the bridge, "we've been holed up in here long enough. Time to go face the music. Jack, you ready to meet my Ma and Da?"

"As I'll ever be," said the human with a rueful shake of his head. For his part, he was wondering just when exactly it was that his life had become a soap opera.


End file.
